


Shuffle Prompt

by Nylffn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Song fics, Suicidal Harry, Werewolf Harry Potter, Werewolf Tom Riddle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-15 23:36:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18679600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nylffn/pseuds/Nylffn
Summary: A long time ago I ran across a challenge for song fics, something I quite like writing.1. She Wolf (Nightcore)2. Hidan no Aria Theme3. Shawn Mendes – Stitches4. Gosick Ending: Resuscitated Hope5. Life Reset Button6. LOVE Frank Sinatra7. Phantom of the Opera – Notes / Angel of Music8. Angel with a Shotgun9. Undertaker – Youkoso Sougiya10. Clear’s Jellyfish Song





	1. Number one – She Wolf (Nightcore)

A young man with neat blond hair sprinted across the street headed straight for a bar. Hanging on the door were many posters advertising various shampoos (Scourgify in liquid form!) or some concert or another (Oh, would you look at that; the Weird Sisters are having a concert tomorrow!); but what stood out to most eyes was the bounty poster, the same one was hung on every lamp post, every door, and every bulletin board.

** UNDESIRABLES No. 1 and 2 **

** HARRY POTTER and TOM RIDDLE **

** Both are dark wizards, werewolves, and suspected murderers **

** Approach with extreme caution! **

** Do not attempt to use magic on these men! **

** Contact the ministry of magic immediately if you  **

** have any information concerning their whereabouts. **

** Failing to report will result in imprisonment. **

** REWARD **

** 50,000 Galleons on their heads **

** (25,000 Galleons separately) **

A sigh fell from light pink lips as the blond scurried into the bar. The young man sat down on a wobbly bar stool and waved the bar tender over.

“Blishen’s Firewhiskey on the rocks, please,” he ordered. The bar tender nodded and sauntered away to the back until he was out of sight. A pale head down to rest on equally pale arms with another hefty sigh; go he hated his life, maybe Firewhiskey would take the nerves down a notch.

“Why, hello! I didn’t expect to see you here, Malfoy!” an overly cherry and obviously drunk voice exclaimed right next to his ear. Stormy grey eyes moved to the side to see a dark skinned man with a light blush coating his cheeks like frosting. Who was he again? He was sure he had talked to him once in school… Luckily the bartender came back to set his Firewhiskey down in front of him before he had to come up with a reply of any sort.

He took a sip from the tumbler before him, enjoying the fire that ignited as it ran down his throat.

“Malfoy, did you hear? There’s going to be a full moon tonight! You better watch out for them Undesirables; especially that scar head, he might report you to the old coot! But wait, the old man’s deader than a doornail!” the dark skinned man – Zabini? – laughed violently. Then, just as another delightful flame rushed down his throat, the young man’s words struck him like a ton of bricks.

“I’ve got to go, Zaaabiiini…. Catch you later,” Malfoy dragged out the name in uncertainty before walking out of the Leaky Cauldron with as much poise as he could pull off in his panicked state.

He had only just ducked into an alley and taken a swig of a repulsive potion that smoked faintly when his eyes widened and his ears seemed to pull back allowing them to grown pointed, and letting hair take their original place like weeds growing in a garden. Pale fingers gained a dark smattering of hair and nails elongated into sharp claws. Long screams of agony turned to howls of pain. The hairy body fell with a thud to the damp ground and twitched about like it was a fish out of water. When the minor seizure stopped, bright green eyes opened wide, turning, searching in the darkness that devoured everything else.

He broke out into a run.

He was starved.

His prey would not easily escape him this time.

A cave was nearing in his heightened vision, a cold looking place, with ragged stalagmites protruding from the rough ground, only smoothed in places with reflective puddles. No light entered despite the moon’s relevant position to the opening. It would be described as rather ominous if one were to ask; but not to the wolfish man running at it. No, to him it was a home he would find nowhere else.

The dark furred being broke through the curtain of darkness that hung just outside like a waterfall, and clamored inside where it was bright and burned his eyes. He moved about the inside, furniture that could be found in the home of a rich man was sitting nicely; completely symmetrical to what was on either side of it. That was, of course, if you didn’t look at the scratches on the arms too hard or the fluff that was coming out of the corner of one of the throw pillows on the floor. Or maybe if you simply over looked the peeling wallpaper that was crudely covering the rugged wall, maybe if you could turn a blind eye on the scrapes and gashes and blemishes on the closet doors or the in the coarse carpet under your feet, then this would be a fine home in your eyes. Still, it was perfect for the man who had just come barreling in.

Bangs were coming from the other side of the closet door that you were meant to overlook. The young man stalked over and opened it just a crack. That was all it took for the weight on the other side to come out and push the poor man to the floor. The breathing of the creature on top of him was as ragged as the walls, and vicious red eyes were unfocused but predatory.

The strangled word “Tom…” fell from the lips of the one underneath the beast, an obvious protest to the massive weight above him. A great paw-like hand came out and covered his muzzle. The smaller body struggled against it, a silent plead for breath.

“Do not call me that name!” was growled out. Of course, of course, he should have remembered that. Tom was especially irritable during a full moon in December. The paw was removed and a large gasp was heard.

“Come on, my great Lord Voldemort, my boredom is overwhelming!” the small one exclaimed. Voldemort gave a wolf like sigh but nodded.

“Fine, of course, Harry. Anything for you.”

And so they played the night away, the way only animals acting purely on instinct could.

It was when the sun finally broke past the wall of darkness hiding them from the world they awoke.

The small body of Undesirable No. 1 wriggled on the uneven ground, ignoring the new scratches on the once posh couch, and snuggled farther into the larger body next to him. The other, obviously none other than Undesirable No.2, wrapped his arms around the shifting body in an attempt to still him before they both fell asleep once more.

 

 


	2. Number Two – Hidan no Aria Theme (Scarlet Ballet)

Strong arms wrapped around a thin waist, drawing the equally thin body close. Warmth radiated between the two bodies like fire between sheets of ice. A nose rubbed gently against the smaller neck almost lovingly. But no, nothing about the man behind him was loving. A hand came up and wound itself in the taller man’s deep brown hair and tugged softly, insisting that he let go. A kiss landed on his shoulder before he moved his head away, but the arms didn’t let go.

“You’re all I believe in, Harry. You’d do best to remember that.”

Harry fidgeted, and then his mop of black hair leaned back and turned to face him. They looked into each other’s eyes for a long while before either spoke.

“I will only keep that in mind when you stop disappearing every time I want to talk to you, Tom.”

‘Yes,’ Tom thought, ‘he is all that I believe in, and I will always protect him… Even his frigid gaze.’

He knew that soon enough his promise to protect him would be wrapped in scarlet red ribbons of blood.

~X~X~X~

He was running; that was all he knew. His long legs were carrying him through the streets under a blank night sky, no clouds, a new moon, and the stars hidden behind the light the street lamps radiated. No one was around; no that was a lie, he knew he was being trailed, he knew that sluts were smoking weed in alleys just to the right of him, he knew that homeless men and women were probably waiting to steal his expensive watch Harry had bought him a year ago on his birthday.

He was running, but not due to fear. No, he was searching.

Searching for the light of his life, the only thing keeping him sane, the only thing he believed in; Harry Potter.

He slowed down only as the door of number 13 Grimmauld Place came into view. He fixed his slightly tousled hair and straightened his suit. Hopefully Harry would be awake when he entered; he needed something to cling to that wasn’t the string connecting him to the last of his sanity.

He entered with a small ‘I’m home,’ before he was assaulted by a black mess of hair.

“I missed you… Why are you always gone for so long, Tom?” Harry questioned. Strong arms wrapped around a thin waist like they’ve done so many times before.

“Work.”

A huff was heard from the mop of hair; they both knew that wasn’t true. Harry let go and pushed lightly at Tom’s chest, only to be hugged tighter.

“No, I want to hug you a while longer…”

So they stood in the doorway for hours in each other’s embrace just enjoying the time they had to spend with the other.

They both knew that soon enough the melody of their romance would come to the crescendo called truth; only one realized that it would be wrapped in blood and tainted with loneliness.

~X~X~X~

A winged back chair was set before a full-body mirror. Streaks of blood obscured the view of the man sitting in the chair, but one of his eyes was visible, the other was covered with a splatter of deep dripping red. The stare was looking straight at the real man, unnerving himself with the violent sadness reflected in those irises. A tear rolled down his cheek, but he didn’t bother to stop it. He wasn’t used to this; this… he didn’t know what this feeling was.

Emotions never came easy unless Harry was involved.

No… even those were complex.

The eyes in the mirror moved to look down at his lap where his hands lay open and empty.

What was this emotion? There was no way to describe the despair that he felt. Was it despair? He’d heard it described before, a bitter feeling that ate you from the inside out, but he had never felt it.

‘You’re so distant. Should I just leave, Tom? Do you even love me anymore?’ it was an echo in the back of his mind, making his head whip around, searching for the voice that wasn’t there. No! He was distant to protect all that he believed in. He shouldn’t leave; he should stay where he was safe. No, he loved Harry; no one could say different.

No one but Harry.

Rain pounded on his window, reflecting how he felt, like the mirror in front of him.

“… I love you…” his voice was erased by the falling rain before it could even be heard.

The mirror continued to cry.

~X~X~X~

Green eyes were rubbed by small hands, hands that he had been mocked for having as a child; too small, too slender, too feminine. Tom hadn’t mocked him though.

No! He couldn’t think of Tom, he had left him for another, it was obvious. He had been so distant recently, gone for long hours with no explanation, his hair tousled and vainly flattened like he had been having a roll in the sheets.

His shoulder’s trembled under the pressure of his despair. Tom was no longer there to hold him, to watch over him; he felt so vulnerable without that comfort that came with having a partner.

He extended his arms and looked at them with contempt. Long scars ran across his wrists like bracelets. Tears poured from his eyes like waterfalls as his thoughts wandered back to Tom; his thoughts always lead to Tom. Tom would have saved him from his own pain. Tom would have prevented him from doing this. Tom would have protected him, he’d promised.

Why had he left?

He couldn’t remember; there was too much pain to think of such things.

Maybe he could hide these new scars with sleeves; maybe he could hide them with bracelets made of red ribbons.

He looked to his chest.

No, nothing could hide his scars; especially not the scars on his heart.

~X~X~X~

It had been another painful, but emotionless day when they met again; one year after the incident, and in a not-so-favorable situation.

A gun pointed to a man’s head, a finger about to pull the trigger, and sobbing, the rustle of a plastic bag falling and the sound apples rolling away.

“Tom?”

A back tensed, obviously not expecting the voice of someone he had lost.

The crescendo of truth had finally come.

A hand came out and brushed Tom’s shoulder. The hand was grabbed and yanked toward him. A nose was buried in it inhaling Harry’s long lost sent.

“I missed you… What are these?!” Tom exclaimed when he saw the long sleeves and red ribbons and bracelets of pain. The fiery gaze moved up his trembling arms to Harry’s wet face

“You left me… I thought… What are you doing?” Harry stammered. Tom glanced over his shoulder where the man had become paralyzed in fear.

“Protecting you. I’m always protecting you.”

“Tom… You were about to kill him… That’s not protection, that’s murder!” Harry shouted. He wrenched his hand away from Tom with a frigid look in his eyes. “I could never love a murderer…”

A lie. Harry knew that was a lie he told himself to help sleep at night, but nowhere near the truth. He would always love Tom. With those words, he left, he was no longer able to look upon that man who he couldn’t stop loving.

Tom looked at the hand that had held Harry’s. He had been so close, so close to something that would never be.

He looked over to the man still on the ground.

“Why are you still here? GET OUT OF HERE!” he shouted. The man ran with his tail between his legs like a coward.

~X~X~X~

Not two months later, Harry had been watching the news when he found out that the serial killer known as Lord Voldemort had been caught and was now on a death sentence. The picture of Tom was on the screen smirking for his mug shot, but his eyes were lost and dull.

He was to be executed tomorrow.

~X~X~X~

Harry was there when he died, and his last words would never be forgotten.

Through the sound proof glass he had read his ex-lover’s lips.

“I will always love you, Harry, my light, my sanity.”


	3. Number Three – Stitches

Once I thought I knew the meaning of true pain, what it was like to be held with a blade to your throat for days without food and water. I thought that I’d been truly hurt before.

This… This wasn’t pain.

This was torture.

A knife slid over my shoulder teasingly. It hurt, but not like _his_ voice.

“Are you in pain? Do you want me to make you better, Harry?” the voice was low and quiet. Those words struck deeper than any knife would ever be able to reach. I knew that he would never heal me, I could beg for days like I had before and he would just _laugh_. No, I couldn’t put myself back into that position; that would be giving in; giving in to what he wanted.

The knife bit into my shoulder like a rabid dog, and I released a cry of pain.

“Answer me, Harry!” Tom demanded. The knife left my skin and was replaced by a tongue, lapping at my wound. I shivered in disgust.

Or, at least, that was what I told myself.

A light gust of breath rolled over the juncture between my shoulder and neck. I squirmed trying to get away from the ticklish sensation, only to have more breath tickle me in smooth staccato puffs.

“Harry… Why do you resist me so?” he asked me. I bit my lip so I wouldn’t make any noise, so I wouldn’t respond and tell him that I had to learn to move on. One perfect hand came up to roughly grab my face by the chin. I was forced to look over my shoulder, disturbing the wound and forcing out more flowing, red blood. I couldn’t keep a cry from spilling over my lips by biting them this time. I was forced to look into deep crimson eyes.

Maybe that was why he liked my blood so much, maybe he had seen so much blood his eyes had stained the color, maybe the eyes really were the window to the soul… There were so many mysteries and maybes surrounding Tom, they were like vultures.

I’m going to die; Tom’s going to kill me. I won’t make it out of this alive.

No, his eyes were red, but they didn’t spell my death.

“I’ve moved on… I won’t call you my ‘Love’ ever again, Tom,” I said resolutely. Tom frowned, such harsh lines on such an angelic face. Why did I have to make him angry? He was so much more beautiful when he smiled.

“Is that so, _love_?” Tom asked. His voice was the arctic; the words cut deep and froze everything in their path.

Tom moved away from me, and I let out a sigh of relief. My eyes slid shut, assuming that today’s session of torture was finally over.

**_PLOING_ **

My eyes snapped open and darted to my right.

A knife, not just any knife – the knife he had used to cut my shoulder, was embedded in the wall next to my face.

“I will stand here and watch you bleed!” Tom exclaimed viciously. The tall brunet stalked over like a predator sizing up his prey; Merlin, I hated being prey…

Tom ripped the knife out of the wall like an animal. It was held to my throat and I struggled to not let my neck touch the blade every time I gasped for breath. The knife trailed down my neck to my abdomen. He dug in the knife violently.

“TOM!” I screamed, “STOP, PLEASE STOP!” I begged. Oh, I begged, but Tom wouldn’t stop anytime soon.

“You should never say you will leave me! You are _mine_!” he growled. The knife never removed itself from where it was puncturing me, not until Tom pulled it down slowly towards my hip. I bet he was getting off on this. I was shaking from blood loss at this point. Tom removed the knife from my skin gently, unlike his earlier behavior.

He moved to hold my wrists above my head, holding me up, making sure I wouldn’t fall.

“Just say that you love me, Harry. Ginny’s a slut that’s slept with every man in Hogwarts; I’ve only slept with you, I’ve only trusted _you_ , I will only ever love you, my dear _Harry_.” Tom whispered into my ear. I wanted to give in, to tell him that I loved him like no other, but I couldn’t. I opted to remain silent.

Tom’s amazing eyes narrowed, and then he dropped me like a child tossing a cat from a second story window, expecting it to land on its feet.

 But I was no lithe, agile cat; I was a clumsy human who couldn’t support his own weight. I fell to my knees before him, like I was bowing to him.

Tom finally walked to the door, away from my sickly body. How much longer would I be able to endure this treatment?

“It’s a shame, _Potter_ , that you no longer have anyone to kiss your wounds.”

The door slammed, he was gone.

I dared to look at my hip.

Merlin, that was grotesque, I would definitely need stitches lest I die from major blood loss.

I wouldn’t risk standing, but I couldn’t help but to crawl with travail.

“T-Tom…” I stuttered. I needed that bastards help if I wanted to live. “Tom… Help me… please.”

His words just kept repeating in my head.

_“It’s a shame,_ Potter _, that you no longer have anyone to kiss your wounds.”_

He wouldn’t be coming back to save me anytime soon.

My eyes drifted closed without my permission.

I was dying, wasn’t I?

~X~X~X~

_He was beautiful. There were no other words for his otherworldly beauty. I sat in my booth at the cafe, a small place not far from my house, when he walked in with that cold wonder about him. Tall, dark, and handsome? That was an understatement. His hair was neat, but somehow managed to enticingly fall into this eyes while staying orderly, he was lithe and tall, and he had the most strikingly red eyes. I had never seen red eyes before._

_His eyes were like flames, like roses._

_Like blood._

_I laughed at the thought; despite his cold beauty, there was no way someone this beautiful could be a murderer._

_He turned his cold but fiery eyes to me._

_I was drawn in like a moth to a flame._

_He walked over and asked if he may sit with me; being at a loss for words – this beauty wanted to talk to_ me _? – I vigorously nodded my head._

_“Hello, my name is Tom. Tom Riddle.”_

_“H-Harry Potter,” I stutter quietly, staring into his mystical eyes._

_I would love to be with this mystery of a man…This mysteriously cold man. You could tell by the look in those fiery red eyes that his heart was cold, frozen over like ice, bitter like a dog’s bite, but he was still so beautiful. He could kill me and I would still be enraptured by this striking beauty; I would never sense that pain._

~X~X~X~

My eyes bolted open. That memory always haunted me – the first day I met Tom Marvolo Riddle, the man who seeks to possess me and kill me and love me all at the same time. I fell for this trap, and now I would have to get myself out of his snare before I died, I already felt like I was going under, soon, I would be out of time. I just… I need to stop longing for him, I need to move on. I could tell him that I had moved on, that I hated him, but he knew better; he still had me roped up like a hog about to be slaughtered.

I knew Tom, he didn’t really love me; he would rather I died by his hand than watch me even think of another. Wasn’t the saying ‘If something is truly yours it will come back even when you let it go’? Or, at least, something of that nature? Tom would want to watch me bleed until I died, would watch me fall on my knees and slowly gasp for my final breaths than see me love someone that wasn’t him. But he didn’t understand; I _couldn’t_ love another, couldn’t think of another, not when I loved Tom as much as I did.

I have to get him out of my head; I’ll end up dead otherwise.

The door’s lock clicked, it was a deafening sound in my ears. Tom had come back hadn’t he?

He stalked in, as usual there was a knife dancing between his long, beautiful fingers.

Why was he so perfect?

The knife wasted no time with sweet, teasing foreplay and went straight to my wrist. It plunged deep like a nail pinning someone to a cross. Maybe I would be crucified…

“Harry… Don’t you love me?” he asked with a sad face. “Harry… You need to answer me today. Today is the day I’m going to kill you.” A tear trailed down Tom’s cheek… Was he serious? Tom didn’t cry… What was going on?

The knife, which I had forgotten when I saw Tom’s tears, pulled out of my wrist, allowing the blood to flow like rivers down my arm that remained upheld by chains. More tears streaked down Tom’s face.

_‘Don’t cry, Tom.’_ I wanted to say as I wiped off his tears, but I couldn’t. I wouldn’t! Tom Thrusted the knife into my other wrist. Merlin… He _was_ going to kill me this time. I whimpered, but didn’t say anything.

“Baby, please…” he begged to me; Tom shouldn’t beg it’s below him. Why is he begging me, he’s the one thrusting knives into me! I look him in the eye with unshed tears. He takes out the knife; I can see red spots dancing around my vision like bull fighters now.

Tom reaches up and takes off my chains, I slump to floor, and I hear something like ‘You shouldn’t die chained up and restricted… You were always meant to be free…’ I smiled weakly.

Yes, I could definitely feel it now, I was dying. I look him in the eyes and whisper to myself more than to him.

“I… Love you, Tom… Kiss me?” I never thought my last words would be used begging to be kissed by my killer. Tom was sobbing now, but he still bent down to kiss me. Blood was pooling in my mouth, and I was sure it was running down my cheek, definitely smearing on Tom’s lips.

He pulls away from me, blood is all over his plump lips and licking at his cheeks, his clear tears turned a strange pink as they passed his lips, and his entire face was flushed.

I weakly moved my hand to caress his face as well as I could with the severed nerves of my wrist.

“Who needs stitches, if they could have your kiss?”


End file.
